


The World

by Fitzfire



Category: Death Note & Related Fandoms, Death Note (Anime & Manga), Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Crossover, Death Note Plot, F/F, Lawlight is real and so is yumikuri, attack on titan characters - Freeform, i wrote this because I could
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-01-05 23:39:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12199572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fitzfire/pseuds/Fitzfire
Summary: Historia picks up the Death Note. Ymir is the three greatest detectives in the world. What could go wrong?





	1. Requiem

**Historia Riess**

_Justice doesn’t exist in this world._

_It was the only conclusion left for Historia, the only answer that fit the facts of the case. This case. The world._

_She watched Eren Kruger give his client a little smile and a nod. Grisha Yeager nodded, looking oh so relieved. He’d been judged and then saved. He’d go free, and in just a few months’ time, his son would almost certainly be condemned._

_Historia had unearthed all the evidence the police force had needed to bring a case against this animal, to sentence him appropriately. The prosecution had done the obvious thing and attempted to throw the blame elsewhere. Historia had warned law enforcement of this, but a few well-placed lies and altered truths later and the criminal was handed a Get Out of Jail Free card. Take one look at the evidence and the farce was obvious, or so said a high schooler. And, really, who was willing to listen to one of those?_

_None, apparently._

_It was true, Eren Yeager was no saint. Hot tempered, rash and judgmental, an unsavory person to be sure, but he wasn’t evil. He’d never committed a crime. He had no right to take the blame._

_But what could Historia do?_

_Historia burned holes into the back of Grisha Yeager’s neck, hoping the man would look back and realize there was one person he hadn’t fooled. That she’d watch him all his life, waiting for him to slip up. She’d be there. His life was over. It was only a matter of time._

_Grisha did turn then, and he did meet her eyes. He saw, but he didn’t flinch. In a moment, his eyes had moved on, dismissing her as if she were nothing._

_Historia’s fingers dug into her skirt. This world. It was rotting._


	2. Kyrie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shall we begin?
> 
> Did I just make a Death Note Movie reference? Must we receive a grim reminder?
> 
> I'll show myself out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the way I’ve got it planned out, the fic is, up to a point, going to follow the Death Note canon. Alterations to accommodate the different characters and for variability will be added, but many of the scenes and some of the patterns of dialogue will be similar. I say many of the scenes because I will be adding some of my own scenes in. See ‘Chapter’ 1.

**Kenny**

_Kenny stared out at the barren wasteland, extending as far as his monstrous eyes could see. This world was populated only by the remnants of his kind. Poor pathetic creatures wasted away their stolen days gambling or napping dreamlessly, because what was there to dream about?_

_He sat upon a cleft of stone jutting out from the rock face, a precipice that slid down into an abyss. The gulf of white light shining dully back up at him. Below it lay another world._

_Kenny wondered whether there was anything in the world that made stretching out his wings worth the effort. Nothing in this world did. Why should another be any different? Still…_

_He spent a few moments, maybe days, maybe years, contemplating it. A claw reached through the folds of his tattered cloak and delicately lifted a sleek black object with two talons. If he dropped it, he’d have to spend years in the other world, dependent on the whims of some human._

_Would it be worth it? Could something down there peak his interest, break this inevitable cycle of boredom?_

_At length, he decided it was worth a try. Releasing the black notebook, he watched it tumble into the milky whiteness below._

 

 

 

 

 

**Historia Reiss**

_“Are you with us, Historia?”_

_“Absolutely,” she said. She absolutely hadn’t been. Staring out the window at anything else would usually prove more interesting than listening to a teacher’s lecture._

_“Can you translate the following sentence into English?”_

_Historia sighed, glancing down at her textbook. Nothing too difficult. Of course, nothing ever was. How pointless. Before rising out of her seat, Historia surveyed the room. She couldn’t help it. But it was all just the same as always. Her classmates were either doodling or whispering or messing around with their phones. Yet, it was Historia her teacher felt the need to test over and over again._

_As if she needed it._

_“Follow the teachings of God and receive his blessings and so it shall be that the seas will again become bountiful and the raging storms will subside.”_

_The teacher smiled and nodded. “Nicely done.” Historia’s smile was empty, her gaze had already turned back to the window._

_It wasn’t as if there was anything to see in the courtyard between school buildings, if there had been, Historia would have seen it and grown tired of it long before today. She was bored of everything. Her classroom, the teacher, her classmates, the incredibly basic and useless information scrawled up on the board. None of it peaked her interest._

_It was all so ridiculous._

_“How was work?” Historia’s mother asked, taking her husband’s coat._

_Rod Reiss sighed, closing and shaking his umbrella out the open door. Another rainy day. Historia wasn’t sure whether the sun existed behind the clouds anymore. “Nothing much different from yesterday.”_

_“Business as usual,” Historia murmured, reclining on the sofa and staring into her book._

_“Afraid so,” he said, loosening his tie. “Every time we close a case it seems like we open another two.” Her father glanced her way and his eyes flashed with that mix of pride and uncertainty she’d become used to. That cognitive dissonance. If only she’d been a boy, then it all would have been simple. “How are you doing in school?” he asked._

_“Fine,” Historia said, flipping a page and jotting a couple random names down in her notes._

_“She’s doing more than fine,” her older sister, Freida, chirped. Historia heard a rustling of paper and she turned to see her sister shaking Historia’s test score results. “The results for the nationwide exams came in yesterday.”_

_Had they? That was news to her. Freida got excited about these things. Historia wished she’d get over them already. It wasn’t like they’d say anything new or surprising._

_“Number One again!” Freida exclaimed._

_Historia could practically feel Rod’s approval from the other side of the room. “Great job, Historia,” he said as if it was some sort of an accomplishment._

_“Thanks, dad!” she said earnestly anyway, then returned to her book._

_“Oh, Historia,” her mother said, coming over to stand right over her head. “You know how proud we are of you.”_

_“Thanks, mom,” Historia said, trying not to flinch as her mother’s hand tangled in her hair. “I actually am going to go study in my room,” she said. “For the rest of the night.”_

_“Oh,” her mother said, withdrawing her hand. “Of course, honey.”_

_Historia gave her a half smile and closed her textbook. The rest of the night meant she’d miss dinner, but she needed to eat something. She walked into the kitchen and stopped in front of a countertop. Rising on her tiptoes, she opened a cabinet and fished out a bag of potato chips._

_Once she’d climbed up the stairs and rounded the corner, she turned the nob and pushed open the door with her shoulder. And then she was alone._

_She allowed herself a small sigh of relief_

_She set the textbook and her notebook on the desk and fell onto her bed._

_If Historia had been a humble person, she’d be honest and say that she studied very hard to get the grades she did. Instead, she lied and said the same thing. She didn’t study. She didn’t have to, so she didn’t go through the motions when no one was looking. She went to cram school and spent most of the night in her room. For everyone else, that was all there was to it._

_But there were things Historia did for herself._

_In truth, Historia spent a lot of her time reading nonfiction. Whether the subject was crime or morality or religion, it rarely had any direct relation to her studies. That was unless reading books in English counted as studying. It didn’t._

_She leaned over her bed, gently sliding open the bedside drawer. Inside lay a thick volume of Japanese Folklore and Mythology. She hoisted it out and flipped it over on her bed. Then she paused, eyeing the drawer. Did she really want to read that thick volume, or something else…_

_She blushed._

_Sliding off her bed, she padded over to her desk a lifted a ballpoint pen out of her pencil holder. Returning to the bed, she unscrewed the top and popped the small cylinder holding ink that ran through the body of the pen. She knelt down and slid the drawer all the way open. One of her hands felt along the bottom wooden board on the outside of the drawer. There was a tiny hole there, and Historia felt it with a fingertip. There it was._

_She took the small cylinder and slid it through the hole into the inside of the drawer. The bottom of the drawer rose, revealing itself as false. Bellow, a colorful, flat object came into view. Another book._

_Historia, careful to keep the ballpoint pen inserted, carefully slid the book out of the drawer. After the false bottom fell into place, Historia let the ballpoint pen drop. She’d pick it up later._

_What did she get for her efforts? A half-finished romance novel. A half-finished romance novel about two girls._

_Her grip tightened around the thing. No. Not tonight._

_She slipped the book back into the drawer and assembled the pen. Throwing it back into the pencil holder, she grabbed at the mythology book and opened it to the marked page._

_Even after an hour of reading, her mind drifted. This new information occupied her time, sure, but it wasn’t exactly riveting. Books laid out facts. She could file them into her mind, consider them, but they didn’t allow for any real active thought. There wasn’t anything to figure out, anything to solve. It was all just laid out there, waiting to be absorbed. Anyone could absorb it._

_It was all so boring._

_Day in, day out, she acted out the same scenes. She went to school, and then she went to cram school. Soon, she’d be going to university. Wasted time.  Another four years of wasted time before her life could maybe begin._

_Sometimes it didn’t seem worth it._

_But whenever there came a thought like that, all she’d need to do was turn on the TV and flip to a news channel. The same news on permeant repeat. Rape, murder, theft, assault. The wicked preying on the innocent._

_The test scores, the awards. None of it mattered. Her good looks, her proud parents. Inconsequential. Despite everything she was supposed to be, Historia Reiss was completely powerless._

_Another day of class. Another boring lecture. Just a waste of her time. She yawned, staring out at brick buildings and the sky beyond. She wondered what the view was like up there._

_And as she stared…_

_Historia blinked._

_There. There was something. What was that? A black…something. It had appeared out of thin air. It was falling from the sky, falling from the heavens._

Historia felt a jolt go through her body as the object, a book, hit the ground.

 


	3. Alert

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not really sure why i haven't posted this.

Historia felt a jolt go through her body as the object, a book, hit the ground.

She took a breath and another, then she coughed. She stared at the thing lying in the courtyard grass before letting her eyes slide back into the classroom. The idiot in front of her was carrying on about who he’d had sex with the night before. The two behind were binge-watching anime together. Otaku nerds.

Yet again, she spent the rest of the class period wallowing in boredom.

As soon as the bell rang, Historia was out the door and down the steps. As soon as the cool air winter that still hadn’t relinquished its grip on spring, Historia pulled on her coat, hunching her shoulders into it. Now came the long walk home.

She hesitated.

She let her eyes wander, no, be drawn toward something.

Yes, it was still there, whatever it was. A black square. A book? A notebook?

Her legs moved almost of their own accord, bringing her closer.

A black notebook lay just a step away. Historia stared at the ground for another moment. What was that white lettering scrawled on the cover? It was written in English.

Death Note?

“As in a notebook of death?” Historia murmured to herself. She scrutinized it for a few more seconds before finding herself holding back a laugh. What a ridiculous idea, probably a prank or something. Not very funny. She smiled. Maybe a bit little funny

None of her business, though. She should leave it.

But she couldn’t walk away.

So, she picked it up.

Flipping through, Historia noticed that every white-ruled page was blank. No one had written in it yet. Was she the first person to pick it up? Who dropped it? Why hadn’t they written in this notebook? She looked up and saw no one. Of course, she didn’t

Historia rolled her eyes. Was she so bored now that she’d started thinking up hallucinations to keep her mind occupied? Pathetic.

There were a few black pages toward the front. More English, this time formatted in a numbered list.

“The human whose name is written in this notebook shall die.” Whoa. Whoever made this had a rather twisted sense of humor, and they were probably stupid too. As if anyone would believe that.

Historia closed the book and set it back down on the ground. She wasn’t interested in childish pranks.

It only took six steps for Historia to begin to feel something stirring in the back of her mind. At seven, temptation swept into her thoughts. At eight, she felt certain she wanted to turn around. At nine, she did.

She picked it up again and tucked it in her messenger bag.

Walking home, she wondered whether there was a part of her was twisted as well. But no, it was just a notebook. It was just a notebook. Actually, when she thought about it, it was a little funny. Imagine taking history notes full of facts about dead people in a notebook of death. She almost laughed but stopped herself when she realized how morbid the thought had been. Maybe there was something wrong with her.

All the way home, her mind danced around the mystery of the little black notebook. She dwelled on its possible origins. Had some idiot dropped it from one of the third story buildings? It seemed unlikely, considering how far away the notebook had fallen from any wall. What other reasonable explanation was there? Would anyone report it missing the next day, but if it had been that important to someone, would they have really waited so long to go looking for it. Maybe the person was very bad at finding things. Did Historia want to return it if she found out anyone was looking for it? Yes, of course. Wait…maybe not? If they’d lost it so easily, why should Historia keep it?

Why did she like the idea of having it so much?

Pushing into her front door, she called a hello to her mom and quickly bounded up the stair. What was she in a hurry for? Her book on the morality of the Japanese criminal justice system wasn’t all that interesting. Most of it just covered points she’d already thought of before. The romance novel she’d been flipping through wasn’t compelling either, they rarely were.

At the top landing, she forced herself to slow down. Her messenger bag bounced on her hip.

As soon as she stepped into her room, she shrugged off her bag and immediately threw it open, groping around for a textbook.

She came up with the Death Note instead.

“Oh alright,” she muttered, flipping it open.

The black pages in the notebook listed out several more rules. Historia scanned the page.

“This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.”

“If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds of writing the person's name, it will happen.”

“If the cause of death is not specified, the person will simply die of a heart attack.”

“After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.”

Historia sat back in her desk chair. “A heart attack, hmm?” How random, especially with such infinite possibilities. “So, depending on the person you have in mind you can either kill them swiftly or painfully.” As she continued to lean backward, the wheels on her chair pushing her away from her desk. Historia tisked, but it was just as well anyway. It wasn’t like she was going to use it.

She stood up and then flopped onto her bed. “Got to admit,” she said. “It’s pretty elaborate for a prank.”

Something stirred in the back of her mind.

Before she knew it, she was back in her chair and flipping the notebook open to its first blank page. A ballpoint pen appeared in her hand.

If it worked, that would make her a murderer, right. Did she have the authority to do that? No, of course not, but come on. It didn’t really matter. The notebook couldn’t be real. It wasn’t going to work. So why not write a name if nothing was going to happen

Well, if she going to, who could she risk killing? Risk killing? That was ridiculous. Still, it would be kind of gross to write Freda’s name in it.

So, it had to be someone who deserved it.

Deserved it?

And there was his face. The name came next, so easily. Well, Historia figured that if there was anyone who deserves to die, it’s was him.

Go on. Write the name.

Historia twirled the pen in her hand, around once, around twice.

Do it.

She wrote the name Grisha Yeager in the Death Note. A moment later, she added Eren Kruger as well.

Looking at the four words, she felt a grim satisfaction. It felt good, really good, to see the two men condemned. Righteous, even. They’d escaped the law, but she knew. And if she had anything to do with it, they’d be dead.

She closed the notebook, almost wishing that the Death Note was for real. Wouldn’t that make life interesting?

  

 

* * *

 

 

 

Rod came home early that night.

Historia’s mother took his coat and Freida called out a hello. Nothing out of the ordinary besides that the sun was still hovering over the horizon. Historia only nodded when Rod said something to her, she was too absorbed in her thoughts to remember to be polite.

Rod spoke again. “You’ll never believe what happened at work, Historia.”

Historia hummed. “What is it, father?” she asked, barely listening.

“We got him.”

“Him.”

“Yeager.”

Historia froze. “Yeager?” she asked.

Rod nodded, eyes shining a little too brightly.

“You mean Eren?” Historia stammered. “What kind of evidence do you have on him, I told you there was nothing to it. It was Grisha, it was all Grisha, Eren had nothing to do with it.”

“I wasn’t talking about Eren Yeager.”

“Oh.”

“Grisha Yeager is dead.”

“D-dead?”

“Just a few hours ago.”

“How!” Historia’s voice came out high and shrill, just a dial lower than a shriek.

“A heart attack.”

“…A heart attack?”

Rod nodded but stopped as he realized his daughter had lost all color in her face. Her hand shook as she ran a hand through her hair. “I thought it would make you happy.”

Historia let out a shaky breath, leading into the words, “why would you-“ but then she closed her eyes. Mastering herself Historia asked, “Why would you think something like that would please me?”

Rod frowned.

“It’s terrible that Grisha died,” she said, gathering more steam. “He was proven innocent by the law, and while I might not agree with that verdict, that opinion doesn’t make the judge’s decision any less valid.” Historia took another deep breath. “Grisha deserved a long life just like the rest of us. It’s almost tragic that he died now of all times.”

Rod stared at her for a long time. “You’re right, Historia,” he said, sighing. “Of course, you’re right.”

“Death is a terrible thing,” Historia said. She watched her knuckles turn white as the grasped at her skirt. “Death is terrible…”

“You’re muttering,” Rod told her. “What was that you were saying?”

“I’m going to study in my room for the rest of the night,” she said a little too loudly. “Please don’t bother me!”

“Oh, alright dear,” came her mother’s voice, but Historia had already climbed the steps and locked her door.


	4. L's Theme B

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to meet Ymir! Or Y, as she will be known.

_“I cannot, of course, support your decision to leave the FBI,” Y said through the microphone._

_The tall Japanese woman crossed her legs, reclining back in her chair. Comfortable, were we? The sly smile on the woman's face told Y that, yes, the agent was completely at ease. Extraordinary. Refreshing, even, regardless of how irritating it ended up being. Y supposed she just wasn’t used to any of her agents having any expression beyond stupidly awestruck. Hange Zoe’s causal bearing alone was enough to catch her attention._

_The woman was a damn good investigator as too, one of the best she’d ever worked with. Her help was instrumental in the capture and arrest of R, and that guy had been one tough cookie._

_Speaking of cookies…_

_“I didn’t expect you too,” Hange admitted, looking straight into the laptop computer camera. Her eyes didn’t dance around, either. The gaze that peered beyond her glasses didn’t glance from the stylistic Y on the screen to Y’s assistant Zeager standing above the computer to coworkers to whatever they needed to study in their laps. Y suspected that the men were checking their balls, specifically that they were still there after Y had systematically ripped into every one of their mistakes and incompetence until they had no masculinity left. Y smiled, taking a bite of her chocolate chip cookie. “But I’m sure you understand.” Was that Hange speaking again? Ymir swallowed and tried to tune back in._

_“Of course, I understand,” Y said through a mouthful of chocolate chips, slightly offended. The implication that the famous detective Y didn’t understand something was completely ridiculous._

_Love._

_Apparently, Hange had found some second-rate FBI agent in her department and decided that fucking him was worth losing her job. Nothing out of the ordinary. Pretty basic human nature. Y wrinkled her nose. She found that most people were rather bad at ignoring their carnal urges even if giving in would to them would prove damaging in the long run._

_One thing led to another and now Hange had decided to give up her promising career for a man. Worse, Hange’s intellect was by far superior to the man in question. A testament to that was Y couldn’t remember his name, even though she’d worked with him on the same case and for the same amount of time as Hange._

_But if Hange decided that getting married and raising children was a more interesting way of staving off boredom than solving cases and fighting crime in the name of Justice, what could Y say to convince her otherwise?_

_“I wish you well in your future endeavors,” Y said through the voice distorter and another mouthful of cookies. Hange smiled and gave a little nod. Zeager closed the laptop._

_God, these white macadamia nuts were so yummy. She’d have to thank A later for her fantastic job._

_Y brought her foot up and shut the laptop using her heel. “UUuuuugh,” she groaned, leaning her head back on her rolly chair. She brought both her legs up and pushed against the table her laptop lay on, sending herself whooshing backward._

_Her arm felt around behind her but found nothing but thin air. She pushed off the floor, attempting to send her chair spinning, again, toward the back of the room but only achieved minimal success.  Y moaned again, reflecting on how unfair this life of her’s really was. Y, the greatest detective in the world, the three greatest detectives in the world, was(were?) forced to grapple with the functionality or, in this case, lack of functionally of rolly chairs._

_She’d tell Zeager later to get her a new one. A better one. A bigger one? A faster one!_

_Finally, finally, she made it to the intercom by the door. Stupid A had insisted on installing it there instead of right next to her laptop table because accessibility wasn’t a luxury she deserved. A said she nagged her too much. Something about incessant whining and frequent requests for snacks. This was of course bullshit, or at least completely necessary. How was she supposed to solve cases without potato chips? Turned out A was the stupid one._

_Y held down the second button. “B??” she called._

_He didn’t answer._

_“B B B B B bbbbb B BBBBB,”_

_“I heard you the first time.” B’s voice was deceptively calm, his monotone only twinged with annoyance. Well, if he was going to be immature like that, why shouldn’t she bother him?_

_“I need a case,” Y told him._

_B was silent for a long moment. “You’re finished?”_

_“I’ve been finished for hours, B. Hours! Give me another case. Any case. Surely, you’ve dug up something somewhere, right?”_

_“When’s his trail,” B’s voice came out quieter this time._

_“Not for a while,” Y said. “He lit herself on fire, B. He’s probably still in the hospital.”_

_“Probably?”_

_“I don’t know. Somebody in the FBI will handle that.”_

_“You’re not at all interested in R’s fate?” His tone was almost accusatory._

_Y rolled her eyes, not caring that B couldn’t see it. “Of course not. I brought him to justice! The FBI and whatever federal court justice system in the United States will decide whatever sentence is appropriate. I’m not a lawyer, it’s not my jurisdiction.”_

_He was silent again. “But it was_ R _.”_

_“Oh my god,” Y moaned. “Then you go over there and mess around and see what you need to see. Give me your case files while you’re gone. There! Let’s do that! Win-win! We’ll both be happy!”_

_B was silent for a very long moment. After a while, Y got bored and switched off the intercom. She pressed the third button._

_“A,” she called._

_A responded at length. “Do you need something Y,” her voice was even duller than B’s had been. God, what would it take to get an actual live person around here? Were all her successors this boring too?  Jesus Christ._

_“I need a case.”_

_“You’re finished with R.”_

_“Would I be calling you if I hadn’t?”_

_Another long pause. “How is he?”_

_“He lit himself on fire.”_

_A was silent. Was Ymir supposed to fill the silence now? Seriously, none of these people had any social skills whatsoever. “He's not going to die yet if that’s what you want to know. I think B’s going to go see the trail or sit and hold her hand while she’s in the hospital or something. I don’t know. He’s going to give me his cases.”_

_“So why are you asking me for some.”_

_“Because there’s only a 13% chance he’ll decide to do that within the next two hours! I need something now!”_

_“I’ll send up some cold cases,” A said._

_“Oh, and tell Zeager to get me another rolly chair. This one’s shit.”_

_“Call him yourself.”_

_“I’m working!”_

_“You don’t have a case.”_

_“I’m working on getting a case!”_

_Did Y just hear A let out a huff of annoyance? Was the girl really human? “I’ll tell Zeager to get snacks as well.”_

_Y grinned, spinning herself around in her inferior rolly chair. “I’m in love with you, A.”_

_“How horrifying.” Y had almost lifted her finger off the button when A spoke again. “Don’t be an asshole about R.”_

_“Huh?” Was A advising her to be considerate? Was the sky turning purple?_

_“With R.”_

_“Well, it’s not my fault he’s in love with a criminal.”_

_“It’s R.”_

_“…your point?”_

_“Is it too much to ask for a little empathy on your side.” A actually sounded...irritated. Y frowned. And A’s suggestion had been irrational too. Y wondered whether A was getting sick. Thank god, they were talking through an intercom and not face to face._

_“How would that have helped me solve the case?” Y asked, trying to be rational enough for Annie likely germ ridden mind “I doubt B wants to hear any comforting words from me. I am the person that had R brought to justice which will inevitably result in his execution.”_

_“Such a way with words,” A said. “No wonder we all love you.”_

_“You love me because I’m smarter than you,” but A had already clicked off._

_She’d better be getting her those snacks._

 

_It took almost three and a half hours, but B did send up his case notes. It took another half an hour for Y to finish up the second cold case A had brought up for her. She saved the other three for a day when B was feeling less cooperative._

_She wrinkled her nose when B flicked on the overhead lights and slammed his case notes onto her desk. “Don’t you see my desk lamp?” Y whined. She could see perfectly fine. Still, she did tell B to have a nice time on his trip, but A’s ridiculous suggestion of showing empathy only earned her a cold look. She’d only been trying to get on his good side so he’d supply more cases, he shouldn’t have been so offended._

_It occurred to her that B might try to break R out of the hospital. There was only a 6% chance, but she told Zeager to send one of his agents just in case._

_She skimmed through the pages. What did she have here? A list of the test scores for Japan’s national exams? Recruitment? Y only paid a passing eye over the results, feeling a flash of approval when she saw a girl had gotten the highest score._

_More cold cases. More requests for Y, Forseti, and Dancer. Boring, boring, boring, slightly less boring but still boring, boring. Were there no interesting cases in the world anymore? Rape, murder, theft, and all the like still existed, of course, but B’s lists were so devoid of thought, of complexity. No one on this list had any pride in their deviance, and nobody was playing the long game. Was B simply terrible at collecting data or was there really no complexity to crime anymore?_

_It’s a conclusion that had been hovering in the back of her mind. Y shuffled the stack of papers in her hands. Did she have enough data to support this grim hypothesis?_

_Y heaved a sigh. The police needed to really step up their game, take these idiots off the streets. Make breaking the law a challenge again. Bring out the brilliant and the twisted. Those were the kinds of cases Y was made for._

_What the hell was a list of medical records doing shoved in with all these files? A slight increase the number of heart attacks in Japan within the last two weeks? Concerning. Y eyed her stack of cookies distrustfully before grabbed another and shoving it in her mouth._

_Circled in red were a series of names. Y crossed referenced them with a stapled packet father back in the stack, all marked up with red sharpie as well. So, most of these new victims were criminals, huh? Strange. And here, a list of the criminals’ medical histories. Didn’t look like many of them had a family history. No warning. A sudden heart attack._

_Y’s glance moved from document to document. B had been rather thorough. He suspected something, but what?_

_A disease or pathogen seemed unlikely. The cases were too isolated. Y couldn’t think of a plausible way that each victim could have come into contact with others, and none of the victim’s families were on a list either, leading Y to the conclusion that none of them had been exposed. Still, most of the individuals affected seemed to be clustered in Japan, in the Kanto region specifically. An environmental factor? Unlikely. Again, how could these victims have been exposed?_

_What did these victims have in common? Many seemed to be criminals. Was there something being passed around, an underground network passing along, a kind of drug or contaminated substance? Did B have a list of autopsy reports, toxicology records? No? A pity. She’d get Zeager to collect what he could. That would tell her more._

_An environmental factor would most likely be random, but a pathogen or a drug might not be. The first would be rather hard to control, the same went for the latter…but…_

_Y checked the time of death for the criminals and drew back in surprise. All between the times of three-thirty and five thirty pm on weekdays? That couldn’t be a coincidence._

_And again, criminals. Could that be a motive?_

_Could this be murder?_

_But what was the point? Killing four dozen criminals? Attention? No, none of them were particularly well known. Revenge? But it didn’t look like they had much in common besides being convicted felons. And who knew if these were the only victims of this killer. How many of these people had been caught in the act, or hadn’t ever been convicted? Did the killer really only go after criminals? There was no way to know._

_Ymir pushed those questions aside for the moment and tried to focus on what she did know. Several criminals had died of inexplicable heart attacks. There didn’t seem to be any consistency when it came to each individuals’ crime. Was this just a broad sweep of judgment? An immature purging of evil, or was there something else?_

_These choices were so random. It seemed as if the killer was being purposefully vague. A cover-up? What if only a few of these victims were the killer’s real target. If so, who had been the targets?_

_Y shifted through the papers again, growing increasingly excited. Could this be a case? God, she needed to find B and suck his dick._

_Y sorted through the stack of papers, piling everything that might be relevant to the possible heart attack murders on her desk. The others went spilling to the floor, she couldn’t be bothered with them._

_She thought it would be best to wait until B came back, to hear his thoughts and reasoning. He might have more facts pertaining to the case stored in his head than on paper. But B would be gone for days! Stupid R. Why’d he have to pick a time like this to go all suicidal?_

_“Y!” came a voice on the intercom._

_Y did her best to spin around on her rolly chair but ended up taking a tumble off of it. Damn. She wasn’t paying attention!_

_“What is it Zeager!” she shouted as if he could hear her._

_Or maybe he could because, in just a few moments, she heard light footsteps reverberate through the floor, ascending the stairs that lead into her room. Next came a sharp knock at the door._

_“All right! All right!” Y muttered, scrambling to her feet. “What’s going on.”_

_“Something’s happening, turn on the TV now.” It was A’s voice, but she didn’t sound like A, not the cool collected and callous A. Not at all. There was distinct emotion in her voice. Y’s heart pounded in her chest._

_Y jogged to the door and threw it open, letting A in. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” Y asked. A didn’t answer. She had her laptop balanced on the palm of her hand._

_“This is on live right now,” A said, pulling up a closed tab._

_“Well, then it isn’t going to be very relevant information, is it?” Y snapped, disappointed. “As if anything important would be broadcast on live television before I was informed…” she trailed off, eyes snared in the screen. An image of a woman sitting behind a desk had appeared. Her composure wasn’t impeccable, her words were tinged with a hint of what might have been awe._

_“Exactly thirty-five minutes ago,” the woman began. “At least forty-seven of the worlds most wanted outstanding criminals, as well as many as thirty-three inmates on death row in the United Kingdom alone, have dropped dead of inexplicable heart attacks. Neither the police nor her majesty’s government has made an announcement concerning the situation.”_

_Another man flashed on the screen. “What could be the cause of such a massive number of deaths in such a short period of time?”_

_The screen split, showing the face of yet another man. “It seems impossible that all this could have been a coincidence.”_

_A closed the tab and pulled open another. An Asian woman spoke rapid-fire Chinese. The next showed a man speaking Spanish._

_“It’s the same everywhere,” A said._

_“Heart attacks?”_

_“All at the same time.”_

_“B was looking into something like this,” Y pointed toward her desk._

_“This isn’t the first time?” A asked, face drawing together.”_

_“The heart attacks? I don’t think so. But of this scope? Yes, obviously.”_

_“What do you think?” A asked, closing her laptop and tucking it under her arm._

_“Well, it isn’t coincidence,” Y said, echoing the reporter._

_“It’s probably murder,” A said. “I heinous act of mass murder.”_

_“All against criminals?” Y asked. A shrugged. “Genocide then?” A shrugged again._

_Y turned away abruptly, the rolly chair forgotten. Reaching her desk, she turned on a light, flipped open her laptop, and started sorting through B’s papers._

“Sounds interesting.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote all four of these chapters at the beginning of the semester, but never got around to posting them all. Now I have. I'm kind of out of the snk fandom now because of some serious problems I've had with some of the recent chapters, and will not be posting any new stories. However, I'm not totally opposed to coming back to this, so there still might be more chapters at some point.
> 
> If you are a fan of my writing though, I've moved on the My Hero Academia fandom. If you are a fellow lover of all things Shouto Todoroki you can check out the multi chap I started about a week ago.
> 
> Thank you all who have read my snk fics and I wish you luck on finding more good fics for your favorite ships!

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of a joke story than anything else, but if it's well received, I'll continue it.


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